


ATF: Redundant

by foggynite



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Case Fic, Gen, Injury, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Modern AU, Recovery, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Someone's after the Seven, with Ezra caught in the crossfire.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	ATF: Redundant

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FFN between Jun 11, 2001and Jun 12, 2002. That... was a long time ago. And this was my first attempt at a case fic. 
> 
> This is in the old ATF universe, which after 20 years, I can't really recall how it came about but I believe it was Maria Mogavero (MOG) who inspired an entire modern au for fans to play in.
> 
> Original notes: Thanks as always to MOG and all the other wonderful writers!!! **Special reference made to Greenwoman's outstanding [Mile High In Denver trilogy ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076717)

This turn of events was just too familiar, like they had all been through this too many times. One was injured and admitted to the hospital, where they kept a vigil at his bedside, then helped to pick up the pieces in the aftermath. It just wasn't right. It shouldn't be familiar, it shouldn't be routine. The hospital staff shouldn't know them by name, or have their files in easy reach. It wasn't fair.

Chris pulled up to the hospital in his rumbling truck, taking a moment to glare at the massive glass and concrete building lording over him before shutting the vehicle off. His team was the best, with the highest regard in a field of toughened agents, but that fame usually came with a price and one of his friends was now paying it. He sighed as he slammed his door closed.

Dr. Wisten turned as Chris stalked down the hallway. The other three agents had returned to their homes to change, then were heading over to Ezra's to wait for the rest of the gang. Before Chris had gone to freshen up, he made sure Josiah and Nathan remained to watch over the drugged invalid. The two had just been kicked out of the room by a very grouchy Ezra, so that he could get changed with some privacy. They had protested, not wanting to leave him on his own to get the loose slacks over his knee brace, but the doctor had wanted a word with them anyway.

"Agent Larabee," Dr. Wisten smiled warmly. The elderly woman had a soft spot for the seven, like most of the female hospital staff, having treated their various wounds many times. "I just finished briefing Nathan and Josiah on how to handle that ornery ol' cuss in there. I know you boys'll take good care of him, but I really don't envy you. You've got yer work cut out for ya." Nathan rolled his eyes in agreement, ears still ringing from the southerner's last diatribe.

"It appears Brother Ezra is second only to Vin in his stubborn rudeness when injured," Josiah intoned with a smirk.

"Well, he's not going to get away with even half the stunts Vin has pulled," Chris glowered and did his menacing look.

"Yeah- The odds are six to one and I don't think his luck's that good." The healer grinned with mock-malice at the thought of having such a captive patient. Maybe now he could finally get one of them to listen to his advice instead of practically killing themselves doing the opposite of what he recommends.

"You boys take care," Dr. Wisten laughed. "Just remember; keep him off that knee for at least a week, and make sure he uses those crutches, and that's only if it's absolutely necessary to move him." Her pager vibrated. "Now, we love ya dearly, but I don't wanna see any of you boys back in here for a good long time, hear?" Even Chris smiled and she hurried off down the hall.

"Well, shall we go break the news to Ez? He ain't gonna be none too happy with us babysittin'..." Chris noted that Nathan's accent was thicker with his exhaustion, so shook his head.

"You two head home and get cleaned up, maybe get some shut eye, and meet us at Ezra's later."

Josiah gave a mighty yawn at his words and joked as they took off, "We hear and obey, oh fearless leader." The elevator doors saved them from Chris's Glare of Death.

The Seven's leader gave a slight smile once they were gone, glad to see his men back to their usual comradery. The latest crisis was over, so life once again returned to normal. His earlier serious and somber mood settled back over him. There weren't enough jokes and jovial sporting out there that could make his mind feel any easier after almost losing one of his men. He opened the door with a resigned sigh, prepared to be just as stubborn as his best undercover agent.

Ezra was perched on the edge of his bed, left leg held stiffly before him as he concentrated on buttoning his shirt- a task made difficult by the fact that he couldn't raise his left arm higher than a twenty degree angle. He didn't look up as Chris entered, but his efforts became more determined. Being injured and subjected to hospital care was a large enough blow to his pride that he really didn't need this man especially to see him struggling to just put on a shirt. Larabee stood silently for a few minutes until he finally broke the tense silence.

"Need a hand?" He asked, knowing he'd be refused none too gently, but unable to keep observing his friend's struggle. The offer would probably offend the touchy southerner horribly, but sometimes Ezra needed a kick in the pants to remind him he had friends.

"I'm fine." The response was terse and defensive. He refused to look Chris in the eye. Buck, in a rare moment of serious insight, had commented that Ezra might be upset about accidentally putting JD and Vin in danger, even if the situation had been unforeseeable, and almost compromising a three-month undercover investigation.

~~~

The case had started when the ATF got wind that there was a college campus drug ring supplying the capital for illegal firearm shipping across the Border. Up to the point where Team Seven was brought in, only the drugs had been traceable to a street dealer, but there was evidence of the shipping. 

After much cajoling, pleading and finally, logical argument, JD was sent in undercover on campus. Buck had been a nervous wreck, his anxiety only heightening when JD established himself with the dealer, Victor, as a potential distributor/consumer with other higher connections: Ezra posing as 'Erik Simpson,' a high stakes arms trafficker and recreational drug user. 

The rest of the Seven were impressed by JD's success and the dealer's dullness since, as Ezra put it, the boy was an open book and considerate enough to hand out abridged versions for free. Victor took a liking to the young would-be criminal, especially when his hacker skills were revealed. It was this proficiency that got him an interview with the next rung on the criminal ladder.

Contact was established, and Ezra was introduced shortly after, with Vin in a now familiar role of intimidating bodyguard. JD's man in the firearms ring was Luther Grant, the grasping owner of a small time used car dealership that conveniently sold many vehicles to a sister firm in Mexico, and yet he somehow managed to wear designer suits and accessorize with solid gold. 

Through research and some false computer documents, the team was able to dangle the credentials for a supposedly sweet deal in front of Grant's face. Erik's 'weapons' combined with their firearms (inspected first by Erik himself, of course) sold to a 'buyer in South America' who was willing to pay top dollar for a rather sizeable quantity of munitions delivered over an extended period of time. 

If closed, the deal would result in millions for the cartel and glory for Grant, maybe even getting him out of the lower rungs and up into the big leagues. He eagerly took the bait and set up a meeting with his boss, Vincent Russo. They dug up enough suspicions and actual dirt on the two men in one week to have an airtight case for other criminal acts of fraud and tax evasions, but they wanted to collapse their firearms business first.

The only thing they hadn't realized was that Russo moved in high social circles, and just happened to have spent the past summer in Europe visiting his close personal friends, the Hapsburgs. He and his wife had been invited to spend several weeks on their yacht as guests at an exclusive party. 

There Russo made the acquaintance of the Von Haukens, who had been travelling earlier with the Hapsburgs and their daughter for the summer. Russo had established an easy rapport with Ludwig Von Hauken, and found himself drawn to the man's stunning Southern belle wife, Maude. The lady had definitely made an impression, and the two had spent several evenings just talking the night away. 

In one of their conversations, she had woefully related the sorrowful tale of her only son and his dead-end career as a civil servant (which she admitted with much embarrassment), the sad story complete with pictures of when her boy was at college and even one of his graduation from the FBI academy he wasn't aware she had, since she hired a photographer to take them while she was busy elsewhere at the time.

After such an acquaintance, imagine Russo's surprise when presented with Erik Simpson the arms dealer, who just happened to look like Maude Von Hauken's son, Ezra. 

An arduous and lengthy phone call later, Russo had Ezra's entire life story and all the information on his current ATF team that could be inconspicuously wheedled out of Maude without arousing any suspicions. Luckily for him, Maude mentioned the fact that she and her son rarely communicated since he refused to accompany her the past summer.

Even though Russo got along with the mother quite famously, he wasn't about to let the son ruin his life. Ever. Unfortunately, enough information had already been revealed by Grant to connect Russo to the ring. That meant he had to go for damage control. So, at their dinner meeting he kept his cards close to his chest and arranged for 'Erik' and his 'college' friend to inspect his inventory the next Tuesday at a subsidiary warehouse. He didn't intend to let them make it out alive.

With JD's presence requested, Buck was manning the surveillance equipment in the van as the other four took their positions with Team Three that night. Ezra entered the building flanked by JD and Vin amid a controlled chaos of dock workers loading the cargo in the transport vehicles. 

JD had complained earlier about the wearing his bulletproof vest, but all six agents had stuffed him in it. The building was stifling, with the heat and boarded windows practically triggering Vin's claustrophobia, making the levelheaded sharpshooter close to nervous. Russo and Grant, as well as two burly men in suits, awaited them next to an open crate with smiles and handshakes.

"Please gentlemen, feel free to inspect the finest quality product on the market!" Russo proclaimed, still jovial and friendly, smiling as Ezra inspected the contents of the crate before him.

"Indeed, sir- You are correct," Ezra laid on the flattery.

"Why, thank you, Agent Standish." All three agents snapped their focus to Russo as Buck began cursing wildly in the van and barking orders into the mics. Russo kept smiling congenially, as Grant grabbed his gun from where it had been hidden next to the crate and rapidly fired at them. Ezra tackled JD behind a stack of shipments, but not before the young operative was clipped in the shoulder. 

In the meantime, one of the suits lashed out with a crowbar, sending Vin sprawling across the warehouse floor. The workers scattered as the second bodyguard's spray of bullets went wide, one almost hitting Ezra as he returned fire from behind the crates.

By then, ATF agents were pouring in the exits and gunfire was exchanged. Russo had ducked down behind the semitruck as soon as the teams busted through the doors, but Grant and the second suit decided to shoot their way out. Chris dropped the car salesman while Team Three's leader, Mike, took out the bodyguard. Then Josiah and Team Three rounded up the workers, plus Russo, and subdued the suit with the crowbar.

Buck, having run from the van even before the all-clear was given, rushed to JD's side, while Chris leaned over Vin, who hadn't moved.

"You okay, kid?" Buck demanded, taking over for Ezra, who had been applying pressure to the entrance wound above JD's left collar bone.

"Hurts like hell, Buck," JD moaned as the scoundrel applied more pressure to stop the profuse bleeding, a sheen of perspiration covering his pale face. Nathan hurried over after checking Vin and started calling for the paramedics.

Chris was supporting Vin's upper body, while the quiet sharpshooter clenched his teeth and willed himself not to cry out. The heavy wrought iron bar had left a quickly blackening bruise on his arm, which Nathan had probed with gentle fingers that couldn't do anything to prevent Vin's sharp intake of breath and desperate moan. From what Nathan could tell, the bone had been broken neatly.

All of the ATF agents were offset by how swiftly the situation had deteriorated, but none more so than Ezra. The bust was supposed to have been simple and quick- Get Russo to admit to the illegal shipping, then arrest him. Things had seemed friendly and unsuspicious enough in the past meetings, but Ezra had not relaxed his guard for a minute, and now found himself wondering what had given him away.

This was what he did best, and yet, this time, he had failed. He stood silently shaking from the aftereffects of the inevitable adrenaline rush, watching as Vin and JD were loaded into ambulances. Buck refused to be separated from the kid, and so rode in the back with him, while Nathan opted to accompany Vin and keep him calm. 

At first the Texan had refused treatment, but Chris had managed to persuade him to let the medics help. The leader paused to search his undercover agent out, and, upon seeing the stoic face off to the side, gave him an unreadable glance as he finished up with the other team.

_And now the interrogation,_ Ezra thought as Larabee strode over to him.

"What happened in here?" Chris demanded, angry with the whole night's events and goaded by Ezra's neutral facade, purposely getting in his face and wanting some sort of reaction.

"I don't know at this time, sir," was the only response he was awarded, the southerner's eyes focused on a point past his head.

"Well find out!" He snapped back. "We're takin' them all into custody. I want you to question each and every one of them until you get the right answer."

And Ezra had. After the other two had left for the hospital late that night, he stayed and kept hounding the workers and remaining bodyguard. Russo had called for his lawyer and was tucked safely away behind red tape, while the suit flat out refused to respond to the increasingly angrier interrogation. None of the workers knew anything, except what they were hired to do and many of them also refused to talk. Even his most persuasive efforts were stonewalled, and he was left with nothing.

He was very frustrated when he arrived home early the next morning...

~~~

"I sent Josiah and Nathan home to rest up, but Vin, Buck, and JD are waitin' at your place." 

Chris had never before felt so awkward with the Southerner. He had seen him injured before, but this time it wasn't just a bullet wound in the line of duty. This had been malicious and deliberate cruelty. So now he was seeing a new side of the infuriatingly controlled conman. A vulnerable side that wasn't used to being exposed and desperately trying to regain that control. The men responsible for this would pay dearly. It left the brooding leader at a loss as to how to deal with the touchy situation, so he retreated behind his usual brusque demeanor.

"Wonderful. Not only have I been hospitalized for the past five days, but now I have to worry about my house being annihilated before I can get back there." Ezra’s sarcasm was rather absently softer, some of the biting edge gone as he focused intently on finishing his top buttons. 

If only his damn hands would stop shaking, and his head would stop pounding, maybe then he could function like a normal human being.

"I told 'em not to touch anything." The warning hadn't really been necessary, though. The small, barren townhouse had a way of subduing even the two most boisterous of the seven most of the time.

Ezra didn't know how to respond to the small display of consideration, so he just smirked into his chest.

"Now Buck and JD'll make it a point to get their fingerprints over everything..."

He finally mastered the buttons and attempted to tuck in his shirt but gave up. The expensive loafers didn't seem to go with his casual attire, but they were the only shoes he had that he could easily slip on without bending over. That probably would have made him die of humiliation right there.

An orderly pushed in a wheelchair and Chris quickly made room as the hospital worker helped Ezra sit down.

"I parked the truck close to the entrance, but I'll go pull it around," he said gruffly from the doorway, hating to see the proud man try to hide his winces of pain and fail miserably.

"Feel free to, Mr. Larabee," was the weak reply. If only he weren't so dizzy...

Chris stalked back down the hallway.

~~~

The following three days after the bust were stressful for the entire team. Buck was frustrated with his informants' lack of information regarding the fiasco, plus JD was forced to stay home and cranky. Chris looked as though he would either have an apoplectic fit or blow a hole in someone's head whenever he was around the office. Mostly, he spent his time wrangling Judge Travis and his superiors, taking heat from them as well as the rumors from around the office.

Team Seven had screwed up, and no one knew how.

Vin was driving his best friend insane as well, doing repairs around his apartment building with a broken arm and getting paint thinner in the cast. Nathan had been called in to repair and/or referee their unpleasant leader and rebellious sharpshooter. He was also tired of being dragged over to the troublesome twosome's messy apartment for every little falling out they had, mostly over Buck's mother hen routine and JD's refusal to comply, usually leading the boy to jostle his stitches, sending Buck into a panic and resulting in Nathan visiting two to three times a day.

Ezra had withdrawn completely, reverting to the original tenuous bonds present when he had first arrived. He avoided his colleagues in the office, wouldn't return phone calls, and spent most of his time pouring over the case file, searching for any sign of fault. Sleep became a thing of the past, restless napping at his home desk the equivalent of slumber. 

His faith in himself had never been as strong as everyone else assumed, but he had believed wholeheartedly in his 'God given talent' and put his life in its hands. Now that confidence was shaken, and he was disoriented. How could he trust himself to keep the others alive if he could slip up so badly and not even realize? Where had he gone wrong?

The tension finally came to a head when Ezra submitted his report on the incident and Chris exploded after reading it.

"You haven't offered one explanation for this fuckup in the entire thing, Standish!" He was furious with his own inability to discover the source of the horrible situation, so lashed out at the one man most accountable for the dealings with Russo.

"I assure you, sir, I am doing everything poss-" Ezra didn't even flinch when Larabee cut him off.

"Obviously not! I want results or yer outta here!" It was an empty threat made in the heat of anger, attempting to wound the southerner where he was vulnerable.

Ezra paled slightly at that, but remained cool and collected. Buck, on the other hand, had been waiting for a moment of Chris's time outside the open door, and rushed to the undercover agent's defense. "Here, now, Chris- that's goin' too far. We're all workin' hard to get to the bottom of this, and Ez ain't no more at fault than the rest of us. Ya'll just need to calm down and take a step back-"

"Fine. Both of you out."

"But, Chris-"

"OUT!"

"Righto." Buck grabbed Ezra's arm and quickly closed the door, deciding not to push the issue with his old friend.

Ezra had remained alarmingly quiet, but now spoke up. "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington." 

The hotheaded scoundrel's outburst had been touching, reminding Ezra that his friends still cared, no matter how bad his mistakes were, apparently. They weren't the ones blaming him, only himself. But that was enough to crush him.

"He's just blowin' off a little steam, is all." Buck clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, noticing the sunken and bruised bags under his eyes and less than perfect hair.

"I think we all are..."

The rest of the day was spent in tense silence. The office was like a funeral parlor, all attention being driven to Larabee's closed door. The other agents had heard of the outburst and taken to giving Ezra reassuring comments and glances, until the conman couldn't stand it anymore and headed home. He stopped by the saloon for a beer, loathe to face his empty townhouse just yet. His search still produced no evidence for the botched job, and all he wanted to do was sleep, but that was a comfort denied him.

The townhouse was dark when he opened the front door, not unusual, but spikes of alarm shot through him when he realized there was no power going to his security system. He tried flipping the foyer light switch, but the hall stayed dark. Slowly placing his briefcase on the floor and drawing from his shoulder holster, he moved deeper into the house.

If this turned out to be nothing more than a power outage, he would laugh. But the sleepless nights and caffeine diet left him lightheaded and paranoid in his weakened state. 

He entered the dusk-filled kitchen, the sky's rosy hues illuminating the place somewhat but leaving details blurred and undefined. A whisper of noise alerted him to a presence behind him seconds before he was tackled to the floor, gun skittering away on the polished linoleum. A second pair of hands secured his ankles while the first attacker wrenched his arms behind his back, painfully popping his left elbow and shoulder joints.

At first too stunned from the pain to move, he began to struggle violently against the intruders, working his legs free with a chance blow to his assailant's face. That just angered them both and made them push down harder. . .

~~~

"Ezra- we're home. Wake up." Chris gently tapped the dozing southerner. Only minutes after strapping him into the truck, he had fallen asleep against the passenger door. Now his forehead was wrinkled and his eyes darted around behind his lids like trapped animals seeking escape. He made a slight noise in his throat, like protest, and Chris shook him harder.

"Ez- Wake up."

Ezra snapped awake, still back in his kitchen, and lashed out at the person grabbing him. A muffled 'oomph' was the only response he got before his right fist was tightly immobilized and he focused on Chris's concerned face.

"It's just me, Ez. You were dreaming." Chris's shoulder stung from the sharp knuckles, but he sought to ease his agent's embarrassment as Ezra realized where he was.

"I must've dozed off. Do forgive me." He flushed pink and determinedly worked to get his seatbelt off with his free hand.

"It's okay." Chris released his wrist and helped him out of the restraint.

Ezra took a few seconds to calm himself as Chris walked around to open his door. The front door of the house was open and JD was bounding down the steps, arm still in a sling and Buck hot on his tail.

"Wow, Ezra, you look like shit!" The kid of the team exclaimed as Chris opened the cab door, receiving a smack from his 'big brother.'

"Thank you, young JD. I could say the same about you," was the weak reply. Buck and Chris exchanged worried glances over the southerner's head as they helped him down.

"You must be plum worn out by now." Buck took over. "Y'look like me this one time I met these two lovely ladies at a bar in Rio. Let me tell you, these were some fine women of the likes the boy here will probably never be lucky enough to woo-"

"Hey! What's that s'posed to mean?!"

"Think on it, JD. Anywho, they were bee-yoo-tee-full, and I thought I'd just about died an' gone ta heaven when I found out they were with a traveling dance company. Ballet, if I recall correctly, and they were real flexible like-"

"I can 'woo' women just as well, if not better than you, Buck Wilmington!"

"What about Nancy down in the copy center? She turned you down flat with a laugh and a smile for good ole Buck, here-"

"That was a sympathy laugh when she found out we were roommates and that smile was ‘cause you had a glob of spaghetti sauce in your mustache-"

"If I recall, gentlemen, Nancy was the one who thought the two of you had something going on from the way Buck was draped over you, JD, and thought you were just trying to flatter her into giving you more copies than your allotment."

"Hey, now that ain't true-"

"Where'd you hear a thing like that?! That's all silly and stuff, Ez!"

"Those two are right, Ezra. It wasn't Nancy down in the copy center. It was Brigitte over the fax."

"Chris!"

"Just put me in bed, please..."

~~~

Vin was waiting inside the townhouse, watching the slow procession from the truck through the glass storm door. The sharpshooter and the gambler had grown close since Ezra's shaky start with the team, much to their surprise. 

Where Vin and Chris were on the same level, could face each other as brothers and understand the other without speaking, Vin and Ezra were two sides of the same coin, facing in different directions, but connected nonetheless. With Ezra, Vin could just sit back and listen if he was feeling sociable, or sit quietly at the same table and not be expected to make small talk. 

Vin understood part of what made Ezra tick, but was fascinated by the part he couldn't begin to fathom. Just as he himself was seen as an enigma, the supposedly open southerner kept his cards close to his chest. In that respect, they were both content to maintain each other’s privacy.

The shaky wielding of the crutches, Buck and Chris on either side like worrying nursemaids; Vin smirked as he had an idea of what Ezra was thinking. The attention of the healthy team members was enough to drive anyone crazy, especially the privacy freaks like him and Ezra, and Nathan wasn't even there yet. 

Considering the southerner's determined expression, no one was going to like the upcoming battle. Chris was staying for first watch, so that meant Vin would reside in the guest bedroom as none of them trusted him to keep out of trouble on his own, and the next two days would be alternated between Josiah and Nathan. They all figured Ezra didn't need to be constantly supervised after a couple of days, so after that they would stop in after work. 

Vin was itching to get back to the apartment building and finish the last few repairs to be done before winter. He would just have to bide his time and wait until Chris was unsuspecting before making a break for it.

As they approached the door, Vin swung it open for them with his cast, earning an infuriated glare from Chris and a resigned sigh from Buck. Vin just smiled innocently, smug as a cat with a bowl of cream, which Chris didn't trust at all and warily passed him. Ezra absently nodded a greeting, concentrating on not tripping over the entry.

"How ya holdin' up, Ez?" Vin asked cheerfully yet in his quiet manner.

"Just peachy, Mr. Tanner." He steered himself towards the living room to take a rest, purposefully avoiding the kitchen and willing the world to stop tilting to the left. 

Chris saw him lurch to the side and shot out a steadying hand. The fact that Ezra didn't even protest disturbed him.

JD had run into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water in his good hand and a white bag in his teeth. Buck rushed forward to help.

"Here, kid, let me get that 'fore you spill it everywhere..." Ignoring JD's exasperated eye roll, Buck took the glass and the bag over to the coffee table.

"We picked up your prescription on the way over," JD chattered nonchalantly to fill the expectant silence as Ezra sank into the expensive couch with a sigh. "They put you on the same stuff as me, but I'll probably stop taking it in a couple days. Real stupid of me to tear my stitches, huh? Well, I can take the sling off tomorrow, though, so I'm real happy about that..." 

JD quickly stepped aside as Buck offered Ezra the drink and a round white pill, which he seriously considered not taking. Despite his outward appearance of being somewhat soft and liking the easiest of comforts, he had never liked taking medications. The few times he had taken painkillers had ended up with horrible reactions making him ill and dangerously light-headed, and right now he was dizzy enough. His pause made Chris speak up.

"You best hurry and take it so we can get you settled in upstairs." His tone brooked no argument. Ezra gave him a hazy mutinous look, but complied and JD took the glass back to the kitchen.

Then Buck held out his hand expectantly, and Ezra regarded it with a raised brow.

"Yes?" He questioned belligerently.

"We gotta get you up those stairs somehow, pard." The jovial ladies' man smiled reassuringly, but Ezra still refused to react.

"Come on, Ezra." Chris got on his other side and stared holes into the undercover agent, who blinked fuzzily.

"Gentlemen, I believe I can make it up a simple flight of stairs on my own, thank you." His accent was slurred suddenly as the drugs kicked in. The room began to come at him in waves and, even though he was firmly seated, it felt as if he was flying head over heels in place. 

He wasn't thinking very straight, but some inner demon was telling him that he didn't want his colleagues to see him like this. An instinctive urge to seclude himself away and nurse his wounds in private, as he had always done, overwhelmed him. Mind whirling to find the fastest way to get them out of his house, he was frustrated when they just grabbed his hands and hauled him carefully to his feet. His hurt leg bumped the coffee table, but he was now pleasantly numb and barely noticed it. The others were discussing something as they practically dragged him to and up the stairs, only his hearing was dim and their words incoherent.

"Think he's okay, Chris?" Buck whispered, worried as they entered the richly decorated, if definitely uncluttered, bedroom.

"Probably just the painkillers kickin' in. I think he's already asleep." 

They maneuvered him onto the high bed and under the covers, just removing his sneakers. His battered face stood out in stark contrast to the white pillowcase. The two men stopped to catch their breath.

"Shouldn't we've just had him camp out on the couch?"

"Nah- This way he'll have to work his way slow down the stairs 'fore he can get anywhere, so I'm sure to hear him."

"Hope he ain't like Vin- That boy would get frustrated and throw himself down if he thought it'd be faster," Buck joked as they went out into the hall and softly closed the door.

"I might just throw him down myself sometime soon. I know he's plannin' on trying something, I just don't know when." Chris continued to scowl as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Vin looked up from the show he and JD were watching with an innocent look. Buck laughed out loud and JD looked confused.

"We should be headin' out." He tossed JD his jacket. The kid was looking tired as well, but wouldn't want to leave his friends unless Buck suggested it.

"See ya later on," Chris called as they passed him out the door.

"Have fun!" Buck smiled evilly. Chris was gonna go insane...

~~~

Chris was going insane, and Ezra hadn't even woken up yet.

After Buck and JD left, the two remaining friends settled down to playing poker on the coffee table. They were just playing for change, but Vin began to rake it all in and Chris had the feeling he'd been taking lessons from a certain someone. He found the game getting old real quick as the contents of his pockets were hoarded in front of the long-haired Texan.

When he went to fix them something to eat, all he found in the fridge was coffee beans, wine, and some unknown spreads with French labels. Apparently Ezra liked to eat out. So, silly him, he went out to the grocery store for supplies, leaving Vin sitting in supposed docility in front of the television.

The little sneak was gonna die.

Pulling up in front of the townhouse, he saw that Nathan had arrived and carted the groceries up the walkway in no rush. He almost ran into the ex-medic as he opened the door.

"Hey, Chris. Lemme help ya," Nathan smiled congenially and grabbed some of the bags.

"Feelin' better?" Chris asked with a grin, noting how much more alert and awake his friend looked.

"It's amazing what a quick nap and quiet patient will do for a man. I just checked on Ezra and he's sleepin' like the dead."

"Good. If he's asleep he can't gripe."

They set the bags on the kitchen counter and started putting the perishables away. Chris paused for a moment to regard the gashes in the linoleum near the door. Ezra would probably want those replaced. It wasn't until they were almost done that he wondered why Vin hadn't popped his head in yet, and asked Nathan if he was still upstairs.

"Ain't no one here but us and Ezra, Chris. I thought he was with you or Buck?" Concern clouded his expression.

"No, I left him here to look after Ezra, so that means he probably slipped out while you were coming in..." A tight knot of tension in his head felt like someone was pulling a string tightly around it and began to throb. Of course. He should have known. The second he looked away, the quiet sharpshooter disappeared.

"He probably just headed back to his apartment," Nathan offered helpfully, worried at the look on Chris' face.

"Oh, you can bet on it." He paused a second, then with a tight smile snatched his keys from the countertop and strode towards the front door. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Just remember he ain't good to nobody if he's dead..." Nathan joked feebly, vainly attempting to lighten Larabee's mood.

"If he's lifted a single nail even, I won't be held accountable for my actions," he growled and stormed out.

"Well, I guess I'm making dinner..." Nathan returned to the kitchen with a sigh.

~~~

The sound of flesh pounding flesh resounded through his ears, vibrated through his middle, reverberated in his teeth. Explosive agony blossomed with each impact.

The sickening crunch of broken bones sent waves of mind-numbing, flaring, searing pain through his entire body.

He was trapped, cornered like an animal and trying to fight back, but to no avail. His attackers mercilessly rained blow upon blow down on him, punishing him for doing his job.

Gasping for air, his lungs refused to fill and it felt like he was drowning. He tried to crawl away, the hard metal of the lone handcuff on his left wrist biting into his flesh and gouging the soft linoleum as he reached for the doorway. Their heavy breathing and muffled grunts with each punch were soon phased out by the fierce throbbing of blood rushing through his head.

The back of his head was ruthlessly seized, one attacker using a fistful of hair to slam him cheek first into the hard floor, bouncing the side of his head off it repeatedly.

The dim light of the windows faded. . .

~~~

The repetitive pounding of the hammer led Chris to Vin.

He had violently parked his truck outside the decrepit apartment building Vin called home, after breaking quite a few traffic laws getting there. The children playing in the stairwell, recognizing him as Vin's friend, scattered at his angry approach. He radiated menace, and woe to anyone who crossed him.

It was on the second floor that he heard the sound of hammering. He zeroed in on the thuds like a vulture on dead meat.

Vin was up on a ladder, one handedly replacing the trim on the top of the wall. He had finished painting the section the last time he had partaken of his forbidden repairs. Ignoring Chris, but quite aware of his presence, the sharpshooter continued his business.

"Vin, get down from there. Now." Chris ground out, tone dead even and deceptively calm. The intense fury behind the words was evident though, simmering just below the surface.

"Hold on a sec, pard," Vin mumbled absently around the nails in his mouth.

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing up there, but if you don't get down immediately, I will bodily remove you from that ladder."

"Fine. I'm done anyway." He climbed down the old wooden ladder and looked defiantly at Chris. "Shoot."

"I'm more than tempted to. Maybe then you'd rest up. Bad enough I gotta watch you at the ranch and the office, but now I gotta keep an eye on you when I thought I could trust you to watch after a teammate?" Chris got up in his face, angry and hurt that his best friend would duck out and put himself in danger.

"Hell, Chris, I waited till Nathan got there then went out the back. I wouldn't leave Ezra on his own. And I got a lot of work to catch up on here, which I could if you weren't doggin' my steps all the time. It's been over a week- and there ain't no one I heard of that died from gettin' just their arm broke." Out of character, Vin snapped at Chris, tired of all the smothering of the past week.

"And if you keep aggravating it, you're never gonna get better and it'll just hurt worse."

The two men glared at each other until they both gave up and looked away. Vin went to put the hammer back in the toolbox, but Chris beat him to it by plucking the tool out of his unwary hand and firmly shutting the metal carrier. He stood with it in one hand and motioned for Vin to head up the stairs. The Texan looked at him for a second, then sighed and turned around.

"Nathan's making dinner back at Ezra's," Chris commented when Vin's stomach growled loudly.

"Reckon I could do with some grub. At least I ain't gotta put up with your cookin' tonight." Vin smirked at the insult, his way of showing that things were okay between them now.

"Weren't complainin' when you ate me out of house and home this week. . ." Chris returned with a devilish grin.

~~~

Ezra awoke abruptly at the polite knock on his door. It had been a light tap, but startled him nonetheless. His heart was rapidly beating, straining like it wanted to burst from his chest. In his mind, he could still taste the blood filling his mouth, and the bruises on his body just reminded him of the heavy blows. He struggled to quickly control himself as Nathan poked his head around the door.

"Hey there, Ez. Sorry if I woke you up, but I made some dinner. Was wonderin' if you were hungry?" He stayed at the door, having never been invited into Ezra's private sanctum and feeling slightly ill at ease.

"No, thank you, Mr. Jackson. As much as I appreciate your culinary expertise, I'm afraid imbibing anything at this moment would not be wise." Especially with the room spinning. . .

"How bout some chicken broth then? Chris bought some ‘cause he figured you wouldn't wanna eat. Besides, that medication will dehydrate you right quick if you don't drink plenty of fluids." His friend's pallor concerned the empathetic ex-medic.

"That's quite all right, Nathan," Ezra refused quietly, the thought of digesting even liquid sending his stomach rolling. "How long have I been asleep?" He changed the subject.

"A good ten, eleven hours, according to Chris. It's almost time for your medication, too, so I can give it to you now and we won't have to wake you up later."

Ezra groaned. Having read the warning labels, he was pretty sure the stuff was responsible for his nightmares. At least, he hoped it was. . .

Nathan fished the bottle out of his pocket and went into the adjacent bathroom to find a cup for water. He came back with two little dixie cups filled and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Need help sittin' up?" One thing about Nathan was that he could ask a question that would normally raise Ezra's hackles in such a matter-of-fact tone that the prideful southerner wasn't offended. Plus, he really wasn't able to get himself up. All his stomach muscles felt weak and shaky.

At his nod, Nathan propped some pillows behind him. Even the simple task had him gritting his teeth against the pain and fighting off the dry heaves.

"I really don't think I can stomach this. . ." He warned as Nathan held out the little white pill.

"It'll be all right- You gotta take it; it keeps the swellin' down so you can heal."

The undercover agent sighed and gave in, forcing himself to swallow because not even he could withstand the pain for long. The thought of how he would feel if the medication wore off was not pleasant.

"Josiah, Vin, and Chris are all downstairs, waitin' to hear how you're doing." Nathan looked away and said quietly, "You scared us, Ez. When we found you. . . It didn't look like you would make it. But we're all mighty glad to have you back."

"I echo the sentiment, believe me. . . Thank you for the concern, Nathan." Ezra was touched. He wanted to say more, but his thoughts were already getting fuzzy.

"I'll go so's you can sleep." He stood up and set the pill bottle on the bare nightstand.

"Huh." Ezra was already drifting back off, but he didn't want to sleep anymore. Nor did he want to be alone.

He had spent some time lying passed out on his floor after they left, and would've kept lying there in agony for quite longer if his cellphone hadn't started to ring in his jacket pocket. He had pulled himself out of the pain-filled fog and felt around for his designer blazer. The jacket had been ripped off him and discarded in the struggle. 

When he opened the compact phone, Chris' voice had demanded to know why he was so late for work and not answering his home phone. His hoarse request for assistance had certainly gotten the leader's attention, and soon he was gone again in his mindless oblivion. Next time he could remember, he was in the recovery room after they operated on his ribs. His kidneys were bruised, he had a concussion, and was suffering from blood loss.

Remembering that he wanted someone to be near, he opened his mouth to protest Nathan's departure just as the healer was shutting the door, assuming that he had fallen back asleep.

Despair welled up in his semi-conscious mind. Then all was dark.

~~~

"What do you mean they got it last week?" Chris ground out, channeling the frustration he felt into something more manageable that he had experience handling, namely: anger.

Chris and Vin had spent the night over Ezra's, only after Vin swore on their friendship not to sneak out again, and were now sitting at the kitchen table sipping some expensive brand coffee at five in the morning. Not good as 7-11 coffee, but hey, it was the caffeine they needed. And Chris wanted to have all his wits about him for this latest crisis.

"Well, Team 3 took over the investigation on Ezra's attack, after the connection to Russo was obvious-" Buck began to explain in his lengthy manner.

"We know that, Buck. We arrested him for it. Get to the point." Chris interrupted with a sugary sweet smile that had the lady's man rushing on nervously.

"The, uh, threat was found sitting on top of the morning mail last Tuesday, addressed to 'Team 7,' but since we were all on downtime and at the hospital, Mike took the liberty of opening it cuz it seemed suspicious and he didn't want to bother you with it until they was sure-"

"Someone gets access to the building's mail carriers, leaves a handwritten note threatening one of my men, who was already in a vulnerable position, and Mike thought I wouldn't want to be bothered?" Again, the deceptively calm voice, tight smile, and murder in his eyes.

"Oh, Mike knew you'd wanna hear about it but wanted to get more information 'fore you went stormin' off-" Buck smiled briefly at the prediction of his friend's reaction, then reverted to his serious let's-kick-some-tail-but-stay-rational expression.

"And did he?"

"Get more info? Yeah. He questioned the mailman and office staff, but they were a dead end, and he sent the letter to be analyzed. Found a print on the paper that wasn't personnel, took 'em forever to find a match. Ended up getting it from that Ident-A-Kid organization. Turns out it was some ten-year-old who was asked to write a letter by an old man in the neighborhood park. The old guy was identified as Erwin Platt, who walks his dog every day there, and he was paid two hundred dollars to get someone to write the letter for him. Mr. Platt is almost completely blind, so much that he can only see shades of colors and has a seeing eye dog, so he wasn't much help either."

"Two hundred dollars is a lot for a note..." Vin interjected, drawing the same conclusion as Team 3. Only someone with plenty of money to go around would shell that out, and it was a freakish coincidence that it appeared on the tail of the Russo case.

"Yeah. Goin' from the account Ezra gave- build, voice, strength, eye color- Mike's been havin' Russo's businesses investigated. Some one's got to slip up sometime," Buck offered hopefully.

"And when they do..." Chris let the threat hang. "That still doesn't excuse me findin' out about this five days after the fact. What if these people tried something? We've been watchin' over him, but probably shoulda mounted a guard!" Chris finally allowed his agitation to show.

"We were all worn out. It was a long investigation and we had injured people plus shattered nerves. Everybody at the office wanted to give us space and time to recover as quietly as possible. Mike put a plain clothes outside but thought it best not to say so nobody'd get suspicious if they saw us talkin'. The man was doin' what he thought was right, Chris, don't fault him for it. Judge Travis backed him up on it, too."

"Where'd you hear all this, Buck?" Vin asked while their leader mulled over what was said.

"Had a hot date with Team 3's secretary last night," Buck winked in his usual lighthearted manner, then frowned. "Unfortunately, as I was leaving her place this morning, she let slip that they were all worried about us with good reason. I got most of the info from her, then gave Mike a call. He didn't like bein' tossed outta bed at four in the morning, but had the grace to act sheepish when I asked him bout it."

"Damn." Vin commented on the situation in general.

"So what we gonna do, Chris?" Buck had faith in the thoughtful look on the man in black's face.

"First, we round everybody up. Meet here in an hour. We'll go over what we need, then set about gettin' it." Now that he had decided on a course of action, he was determined to get it over as quickly as possible. It was that focus that contributed to making them one of the best teams in the ATF.

"We gonna tell Ez?" Vin wanted to know, reluctant to upset the southerner further.

"For now, keep it quiet. Once we know where we stand we'll decide."

"Guess I gotta drag JD's butt outta bed..." Buck grinned mischievously as he headed out the door.

"I'll give Ezra his next pill," the sharpshooter quietly mumbled, grabbing the medication off the counter.

"That leaves me to make some phone calls," Chris glowered in anticipation. Mike, then Judge Travis. He was going to get some answers.

~~~

Nathan hurried to his Suburban, pulling his jacket tight in an attempt to keep out the bitter cold. The weather had suddenly turned ugly after he left Ezra's the previous night and, tired following a stressful day at the office catching up on paperwork, Nathan wasn't in the mood to freeze. He dug in his pockets to find his keys, which he had hastily stashed on his way into the pharmacy to pick up a new Ace bandage for Ezra, so he wasn't paying attention to the night around him.

Just as his hand curled around his pewter keychain, he was slammed into the driver side window by two sets of hands. He struggled instinctively, but stilled at the harsh voice and painful grip on the back of his neck.

"Listen up." It was the voice of a chain smoker, the smell of stale cigarettes confirming his guess. "We let that scrawny Southern runt live as a warning for the rest of you pigs to back off the Russo case, but did you get the hint?" The second attacker shoved him harder into the glass. "No- you fools didn't. So now we've got to make our point clearer."

Nathan could make out a black ski mask set against the cloudy night sky in the reflection so near to his face. Then the sharp gleam of a butterfly kife joined the menacing picture.

"Do NOT doubt that we know exactly where you all live, where you go after work, even where you park your cars. You're messing with a global operation here- If you take Russo down, there are others just waiting to fill in and they will come after each of you. For now," the blade flicked close to his eye, "the demand is simple. Back off now so no one else gets hurt. It's already too late to save Standish, and if you fail to comply, poor little JD is next. You get my drift?"

Nathan nodded as far as he could while still being held. His heart was beating furiously, anger warring with fear. They weren't going to kill him; he had to deliver their message, but that didn't mean they would let him go unscathed. Plus, he had to warn Chris immediately. They had to get Ezra out of the house, and get to the others.

Right now, though, he had to remain conscious.

"Just so you won't forget, we'll leave you a reminder..." A silver flash warned him and he heaved back suddenly, blocking the assault. A sudden sting in his arm was ignored as he fought the two men. Help, however, came in the form of an ex-marine from a nearby apartment complex walking his Doberman.

"Hey! What are you doing over there?!" The dog started barking ferociously, which drew the attention of the store clerk and suddenly Nathan was released as the two men ran down the sidewalk, headed for a side alley. The ATF agent heard the peal of tires, but no vehicle emerged from that side of the alley.

He sighed and slumped against the car door as a crowd gathered, then pulled out his cellphone.

~~~

"Nathan called earlier, said he was gonna be a little late." JD informed Chris as he plopped down next to Vin at the coffee table, where the two had started a game of gin rummy.

"I told him to come immediately from the office. It's already six now!" Chris snapped, wearily scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. He’d had to wait for the ATF building to open before Judge Travis would speak to him, and he could get all the information from Mike. The situation was not good.

"He was gettin' some bandage for Ezra," JD looked contrite, like the delay was his own fault. 

Chris sighed.

"Ain't no concern, JD. I just don't like what I've got to say." It was as close to an apology as he ever made, so JD smiled happily.

"Speakin' of Ez, somebody better go wake him up or he'll be madder'n a hornet..." Vin drawled, smirking from his nest of blankets in front of the TV.

"You mean you already told him?" Buck demanded indignantly, glaring at Chris, who mentally noted the protectiveness in his tone.

"We didn't have to," Vin replied for their leader. "He overheard us this mornin', while he was tryin' to get downstairs on his own."

"Least he didn't throw himself down 'em," Chris deadpanned, giving Buck a slight smirk that sent the ladies man into a fit of laughter.

"I assure you, Mr. Larabee, I have no wish to injure myself further." The sudden southern drawl made them all jump guiltily. Josiah stood discretely behind the conman, out of sight but prepared to catch him if he fell.

Buck shooed JD over so that the path to the sofa was clear, and the three uninjured teammates had to restrain themselves from obviously helping the proud man get seated. Josiah had carried the crutches down, so Ezra slowly hobbled his way over on his own, brow furrowed in concentration. Yet when he stumbled on the plush oriental rug, Buck swiftly caught him and Josiah eased him onto the couch.

"Thank you, gentlemen." His tone was subdued as he leaned back his head.

"Should you be outta bed?" JD questioned, then hastily continued as Ezra shot him a glare. "I just mean- is Nathan gonna skin us alive for lettin' you down here?"

"You are not 'letting' me, I chose to descend after deciding that I am tired of sleeping." Ezra returned to his relaxed pose, only now he surreptitiously rubbed his straining eyes.

"Dear Lord, the world's gonna end! Ezra just said he was tired of sleeping!" Buck crowed as he teased his friend.

"Whatever shall we do?" Came the sarcastically muttered retort. 

One of the knots inside Chris's chest relaxed. Ezra was beginning to sound more like Ezra. His undercover agent would be all right.

"Are we just waiting on Nathan, Brothers?" Josiah's soothing rumble was easier on Ezra's pounding head than Buck's boisterous shouts.

"He called over an hour ago, Josiah. I don't see why he ain't here..." JD answered the ex-preacher.

Chris's cellphone shrilled at that moment, causing Ezra to groan and Buck to comment, "Hope that's him."

All five men tensed at their leader's curses after he assertained that it was Nathan and was silent for a time.

"What was that about?" Buck demanded after he hung up.

"Nathan was just attacked by our two thugs," Chris nodded in Ezra's direction, continuing despite the growing pallor of the recovering southerner.

"He all right?"

"Just a sliced arm, nothing deep. He doesn't think he needs stitches, so he's headed over here right now. But they gave him a message to deliver- 'Back off or die.'" Chris spit out the words, furious. "Apparently they know where we live and our routines, so none of us are safe. Nathan seemed pretty adamant that we find a place to lay low at least temporarily."

"You mean hide!" JD exploded, indignant at the thought of a hasty retreat. "No way!"

"Just to regroup and form a plan." Chris's tone held a warning for the hotshot hacker, who looked suitably abashed.

"Why can't we just wait for them to come to us?" Vin asked calmly.

"Because they seemed pretty intent on killing Ezra when they spoke to Nathan, and I'm not taking any chances."

Ezra's head came up at that revelation, and he slowly leaned forward.

"Where can we go if they know where all of us live and still be close enough to the office to get back at them?" Buck wanted to know.

Ezra tuned out the suggestions being thrown around and came to a decision.

"Perhaps, gentlemen, Mr. Tanner has a valid idea." He interrupted softly. It took them a second to remember what Vin had said, and then the vehement protests began.

"Brother, we can't just let them plan to attack at their leisure-"

"No way, Ez. It's too dangerous!"

"I don't think so, Standish," Chris's voice cut through the outbursts.

"Why not? Set a trap for them, using me as bait." His voice seemed rational enough, but they regarded him as if he was crazy.

"We'll work on the offensive later. For now, we need a secure place to stay." The leader's tone brooked no argument.

"Where then?" Ezra demanded testily, annoyed that a matter such as his safety would prevent them from capturing the goons immediately. Never mind the fact that the very idea of waiting for them to come back scared him stiff.

"I have an idea. For now, we'll travel in pairs and get ready to leave."

~~~

Chris found himself staring at the phone, debating with his conscience.

_She's a civilian. I have no right to ask. . ._

Ezra was upstairs packing, with Vin lending a hand (literally) and adding smart ass comments amid the southerner's curses. Smirking faintly at the cantankerous pair's verbal sparring, he realized yet again that he would do anything for these men, this family, and it left him feeling as though he had crept out of his skin and was watching from a distance.

This wasn't the Chris Larabee who drunk himself into a stupor every night to forget the happy faces of his wife and son. This was someone who had been pulled back from the edge by six loving sets of hands, even if they never realized it. 

The loss of Sarah and Adam could still feel like a punch in the gut at unexpected moments, but his wish for death had slowly been forgotten in the time he had known his rowdy, but efficient, team. In a way, the bond formed had saved each of them, and he'd be damned if he'd let it be broken.

_Fine. I'll give her a call. . ._

He and Mary had been seeing each other off and on when they weren't butting heads over something. Well, he called it "seeing each other," the rest of the men called it "exclusively dating" as neither of the two had eyes for anyone else. They approved of the relationship, which made Chris relieved somewhat, not that he would need their approval to date whomever he chose.

As he had formulated the plan to lay low and come up with a strategy, he remembered a conversation with Mary over dinner one night when she mentioned she leased a cabin a good ways from the city, where she would take Billy often for some quality time. No one at her office knew the number, and the phone was only there for emergencies. The place was isolated, yet not too far out that they couldn't get help if needed. It was perfect.

Hopefully, she wouldn't mind letting the team use it for a few days. Also, hopefully she wouldn't remember the team's penchant for getting safehouses shot up. That was his major qualm; it's a place that two civilians go to relax and will probably continue going after this crisis was over. Did he want any sort of criminal element to possibly know of its location? Even if they weren't confronted at the cabin, if any of Russo's organization should learn of it and Chris' connection, would Mary and Billy be safe there again?

_Maybe I shouldn't call her. It's not her fight. We could get the Judge to find us a place. . ._

Too long. That would take too long, and who knew what kind of connections Russo had in the ATF. There was still the mystery of Ezra's blown cover. Plus the Judge was out of town and it would take some work to find him.

_Damn, damn, damn. Damn Russo. Damn his organization._

Chris hated being pinned like this, and he knew Russo knew it. Sly old bastard was probably laughing from his damn cell. At least they still had him pinned- Not even his fancy lawyers could get him out of the numerous federal charges against him. But his men were also still acting on orders, apparently not from Russo though, it seemed. The old arms/drugs dealer should be happy the ATF had kept him locked up in federal custody; from the sound of it, Team Seven weren't the only ones who could disappear conveniently and be replaced.

Chris sighed softly. He would have to do it. There was no way he couldn't. But how to contact her without the risk of the line being compromised? JD would know. He called up JD's cell phone and pushed the walkie-talkie button to patch into the team's Nokia system, then began rapping out orders.

~~~

Ezra perched on the edge of the couch, resting after the descending the stairs. Amazing how such a simple exercise could wind him. His knee began throbbing mercilessly.

"You are not going off on your own!" Chris was in the kitchen vetoing Vin's plan to run over to his apartment to let the kids know he'd be gone for a bit. 

Ezra still hadn't worked up the nerve to go back in there. Once he was feeling better, surely his nerves would settle. Nothing to worry about, he could deal with this. It was ridiculous, a grown man worried about entering his own kitchen. Not exactly practical.

"I can't just leave, cowboy. . ." Vin's laconic Texan drawl is no doubt making that one vein stand out on Mr. Larabee's forehead, Ezra thought with the slightest trace of a wry grin. 

Usually it was his job, but since he seemed incapacitated at the moment, Vin had taken up the crusade to drive Chris insane. At that, Ezra had to chuckle softly. That's what family did to you- forced you to take leave of your senses, then found you a nice old age home in your early senility.

He rubbed his knee almost absently.

The shrill ring of the phone made him jump. Inexplicably, his heart began pounding, some memory slithering through the shadows of his mind. Ghosts rose out of the dust unsettled in its wake, but Ezra forced himself to concentrate on the present. Concentrate on Chris walking out from the kitchen because the phone in there had been. . . Vin. Watch Vin with his one good hand go to lift the black phone from its cradle. Chris was giving him a funny look, probably wondering why he was so pale. He forced himself to relax. Just an innocent phone call.

"Yes, ma'am, he's right here." The sharpshooter was saying into the receiver. He gave Ezra a questioning glance as he held out the phone. "It's yer ma," was his simple explanation, but the concern remained.

Ezra licked his dry lips and took the phone with a strained smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

"Hello, mother-" He had no chance to continue.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am, Ezra Patrick Standish? To be informed by a very influential acquaintance that my dear and darling friend has been incarcerated by my own son and his merry band of miscreants!!! I was mortified! Shocked! I near fainted right there, in the lobby of the Ritz! You should be ashamed of putting such a wonderful and considerate gentleman through such turmoil! I told him your life was disgraceful, and now you've just confirmed my horrid opinion!" She paused to breathe, and Ezra took his chance.

"Mother, whatever are you carrying on about? Who have I incarcerated now? I happen to arrest many criminals, mother, you'll have to specify." He truly was confused, and his bewildered tone drew the attention of his two friends, who had been giving him some privacy to deal with 'The Whirlwind.'

"Why, Vincent Russo, of course! I made his acquaintance at a soiree on the Von Hapsburgs’ yacht and he was most attentive to a poor, bereft mother whose son had betrayed everything she had raised him to value by putting life and limb in danger all for some pitiful excuse of employment in the civil service!" 

Ezra ignored the last, sneered part, his mind reeling at the knowledge that Russo must have recognized him the very first night.

"You know Vincent Russo?! And you told him about me?!" He finally demanded, interrupting another outraged tirade on the evils of his chosen profession. His shocked demand had Vin and Chris instantly at his side, voicing their own questions.

"Yes, I know him! Why do you think I'm calling, for quality time?! He consoled me in my time of despair, which is still ongoing I might add, and just two weeks ago he contacted me and we had a delightfully rewarding conversation!" Maude's indignation was in full swing.

"Two weeks ago!"

"Yes. Have they turned you into a parrot over there?"

"What did you tell him, mother? How did he know me?" The only way to get information out of her when she was in a tizzy was to ignore her barbed remarks.

"I just happened to mention that my son, my own flesh and blood, had turned his back on all his schooling and everything refined to take it up with those ATF barbarians I met when you so callously cast me aside! Me, your own mother! For unmannered, backwater hicks! It was refreshing to have a sympathetic ear listen to my plight since you seem to have renounced your upbringing!" Maude's conveniently selective memory had repressed the actual visitation with Team Seven.

Ezra found his anger rising with each reproaching statement. It had been almost two weeks since the bust. A bust gone horribly wrong. Two of his friends had been injured, now they were all in danger. All because his mother decided to confide in an international arms smuggler. Now she had the temerity to verbally dress him down for doing a job he was damn good at. Yes, he was good at his job, which just made the self-doubt all the more senseless.

"Mother." His voice was cold, the tone usually reserved for belligerent criminals. He paused to make sure she was listening, the line filled with shocked silence. Chris and Vin observed the southerner with surprise. "Because of your self-absorbed, mindless sulking, young JD was shot and Vin now has a broken arm. They could have been killed, just because you chose to find a 'sympathetic ear' in a renowned arms dealer. Because you felt the need to relate my life story to a member of an arms cartel, I just spent a week in the hospital as I had been beset upon by two thugs in my own home. This entire time I have been obsessing over every little move I made in this case- every glance, every phrase- trying to figure out what I let slip to tip him off. Now you have the gall- the unmitigated nerve- to reprove me for arresting your 'friend' who, with his associates, has marked me for death, as well as my teammates if they continue to pursue his case. And for the record, mother, those 'backwater hicks' are the only people in this fucked up world I trust with my emotions and my life!" At that, he furiously slammed the phone down and leaned forward with a groan, a horrible headache ricocheting through his head. In the tense silence of the living room, Chris was regarding him as if they'd never met and Vin cautiously sat down next to him.

"Well, one mystery solved." His voice was hoarse and strained. He began laughing, suddenly finding the entire situation hilarious, and wondered if he was becoming hysterical.

Laying a steady hand on his back, Vin drew him in for a brotherly hug- The first anyone on the team had ever given him. At first he stiffened in surprise, unused to displays of concern, but relaxed and gave the sharpshooter a grateful smile once he was released. Chris cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere, and went into leader mode.

"Alright. Now that we know the connection, I hope we don’t need to be overly worried about a leak in the department. So- We concentrate on staying alive until we can get to where we're goin' and start planning.

"I gave the others an hour and a half to prepare; they should be here within fifteen minutes. Then we'll move out."

"Sounds like a plan, cowboy," Vin drawled, then got up to recheck their supplies.

Chris watched his exhausted undercover agent a minute before speaking. "You've done good, Ez. Situation couldn't've been avoided and you're still alive, so you're doin' something right."

Ezra regarded him silently, then nodded his thanks, reassured more than he would like to admit.

~~~

Ezra was sore, tired, injured, and had been stuck in a jostling jeep being driven by a one-handed driver for almost three hours holding on for dear life since the sharpshooter appeared to have a death wish.

"Mr. Tanner?!" He yelled, trying to be heard over the roar of the freeway and Vin's questionable taste in music.

"You say sumthin', Ez?" Vin called back with a smirk.

The conman moved his mouth, but neither could hear what he was saying.

"What was that?" Vin turned down the volume.

"For the love of God, turn off that racket!" His outburst in the relative quiet of the jeep startled both of them.

"Jeez, no need to yell. . ." Vin grumbled good naturedly, used to Ezra's protests.

"I apologize, Mr. Tanner. I forgot to modulate my tone." Ezra laid his head wearily back against the head rest. Maybe if he took the rest of his painkillers he'd pass out and miss the rest of the drive. . .

Vin turned the volume up just a little and started singing along to some Texas heart break lamentation.

No. . . He'd probably just end up conscious, sick to his stomach, and the butt of every joke with his luck.

~~~

"Alright. We've got Vin and Ezra in the jeep, Buck and JD in the pick-up." Chris and the two remaining members were doing some last-minute plotting at the office. "Nathan, put another message in for the judge and double check the guards on Russo. Josiah, get in contact with the local PD out there and warn 'em we might have trouble. But keep it low profile and only to the officer Mary supplied."

The widow hadn't been very pleased when Chris asked his favor. Being Mary, she had gotten the entire story out of him in about five minutes and told him before he asked that he had use of the cabin. He, in turn, got his hackles up at her tone and decided he couldn't use the cabin. She hadn't liked that. In fact, she looked about ready to belt him for getting into trouble again and being reluctant to let her help. Her coworkers had watched through her windows in shock at the shouting match and were even placing bets if it came down to slugging it out.

"Now you listen here, Chris Larabee. I'm a grown woman and if you think your safety is none of my business, you've got another think coming." She'd gotten right up in his face about it, in the middle of her office. "Don't you worry about me, I can take care of myself- and I'm not about to lose another man I love, so you're gonna go to my cabin till this is resolved, even if I have to drag you there myself, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!"

Too bad for the bettors, since that last statement killed the argument. Chris couldn't have looked more surprised if she'd hit him over the head with a two by four, but both were embarrassed as the closest thing to a declaration of love in their relationship was uttered. Mary blushed. Chris coughed. Then he meekly accepted the cabin keys and the number of an old contact of hers with the local PD.

"Thinkin' bout Mary?" Nathan asked with a smirk mirrored by Josiah, snapping Chris back to the present.

"Huh?"

"Just figurin', since you got that dopey grin on and all. . ."

They both fled before Chris caught on to the statement. Sighing and seriously considering reconsidering his luck at having picked a bunch of smart asses for a team, he decided he'd better not tempt fate and let it be.

Grabbing an evidence box containing all the information from Russo, he headed for the cabin.

~~~

"Hey, Ez. We're here." Vin tapped the southerner with his good arm, waking him from his light doze.

"And where exactly is here, Vin?" Ezra asked through a yawn.

"Hell if I know. Middle of nowhere. Least it's secluded." He hopped out and grabbed the duffel bags from the back, slinging them over his uninjured arm, then went around to help Ezra if need be.

A few seconds later, Buck pulled up in his beat-up truck. JD bounced out of the passenger side and came over to Ezra's door.

"You guys okay? How's the arm Vin? Your head alright Ez- you look like ya got a headache. Wait here, I'll find your pills. . ." He bounced off again.

"Somedays it seems like I was born with a headache." Ezra mumbled under his breath. Vin was just laughing.

"And Chris thinks I'm a terror on a road trip."

"Anyone gives you chocolate, Mr. Tanner, and I'll shoot you both myself."

The cabin was built to resemble the old log ones still preserved in national parks. Even though it looked small from the outside, inside it was rather spacious. Buck was piling all the gruesome twosome's junk in the foyer while admonishing JD about overexerting himself as Ezra hobbled through on his crutches.

Couch. Must. Find. Stationary. Couch.

JD was sprawled on a loveseat, idly munching on a candy bar. Ezra went for the nearest armchair and sank gratefully down with a sigh. His injuries, the fight with his mother, the hellish drive up here- all had worn him out and he just wanted to curl up and sleep until Russo and all of his network were dead.

"So what we gonna do now?" The hyper youth asked of no one in particular after a few moments.

"We wait for Chris, Nathan, and Josiah to get here. Then we start planning," Ezra replied in a haggard tone.

"No, I mean now. I brought a pack of cards! Wanna play poker? I'm bored. Let’s go exploring-"

Ezra just sighed.

~~~

Chris' cellphone rang as Nathan was pulling off the interstate, about an hour out from the cabin. Answering the phone, he prayed it was with good news and that his departed men were still safe.

"Larabee."

"Chris? It's Travis. I just-" A burst of static drowned his words. "-fice this morning. The past few days have been enligh-"

"Judge?" Chris cursed the fact that their government issued cellphones had a tendency to hit dead zones. After a few moments it became obvious the connection was lost, confirmed by the mocking message on the phone's screen, so he did the first thing that came to mind- Threw the stupid thing on the floor of Nathan's Explorer rather vehemently. "Godammit!"

"Bad signal, brother?" Josiah's deep baritone drifted wearily from the backseat, where the large man was sprawled with his head leaning out the open window.

"Bad day. Bad week."

"Amen to that."

"I still don't see why they're gunning for Ezra," Nathan commented, resuming the conversation interrupted by the cellphone. "It's not like we haven't got enough people to identify Russo. Ez doesn't know who's higher up in the food chain, so he couldn't identify them. Team Three's taken over the case, so he's not actively doing research right now- especially the way he's been feeling. Yet those two thugs made it sound like he's already been written off for dead. Why?"

"Maybe he found sumthin' before the worked him over and we just don't realize it. He has no clue for sure, but maybe if we all look over the evidence and testimonies, something might click." Chris glowered out the window, peering into the night as though it might suddenly supply the answers he sought. 

"It may or may not be an identification issue. They've only threatened Ezra and JD, but Vin was there too, and we were all at the bust. So they may suspect JD of knowing something more, too. He did have access to their computers at one point when that punk was testing his skills. But I highly doubt even that pusher would be stupid enough to let him near any info on his bosses. These guys don't seem like the type to take risks."

"You sure, Chris? They let JD in mighty fast once they found out he was a computer wiz." Nathan glanced sideways at him, then returned his eyes to the road.

"But these syndicates are always on the lookout for skilled hackers. So much security and information is digital these days, of course they're gonna jump at the chance."

"Unless they knew who he was from the beginning and were just setting Russo up. For what, I dunno, maybe he laughed at the wrong time. They get Russo out of the way as a convenient scapegoat for offing a few federal agents- if they had managed to kill any of us. Of course, having Russo in police custody would be a greater security hazard for them than having him dead. Unless they're using him to plant false information. But this is all speculation and I'm startin' to get a headache."

"You're not the only one."

There was silence for a few miles. Nathan turned onto a quaint looking, barely state maintained, two lane road. Their ears popped as the altitude increased. Chris sighed as he rolled down the window, enjoying the crisp night air and the sound of an owl in the distance. The soft vibration of the Explorer was broken by potholes and bumps, but he found himself sinking lower in the seat. A particularly loud snore from Josiah carried to the front, making Nathan laugh quietly and him smirk.

Hopefully, here in the mountains, they could come up with a game plan for getting out of this mess.

His eyes slowly drifted shut as his head leaned against the uncomfortable doorframe. Nathan noticed as their "fearless leader" succumbed to the effects of sleep deprivation and stress, and decided to keep a nice slow pace the rest of the trip.

~~~

It had snowed overnight. The fact that Ezra was up at the crack of dawn to watch the flakes drift down was a point of concern for the undercover agent. Insomniac though he might be, he assumed his injuries and medication would guarantee at least six hours of continuous sleep. Unfortunately, his subconscious had other ideas and kept throwing new nightmares his way. It was probably just the medication, at least that's what he told himself for reassurance. They just needed to solve this case and he'd be back to normal in no time at all. 

If he had a normal anymore. . .

The clang of a frying pan on the stove implied one of the team was up and making breakfast. He heard the fridge open as the smell of coffee teased his nose.

"Please let it not be Vin," he murmured almost inaudibly. 

Josiah was snoring peacefully on his camping cot next to the modest full-size bed and Ezra had no desire to wake him. Josiah, Nathan, and Chris had gotten in late the night before, and the tension of the past weeks was telling on the team. Besides, he was happy going to pieces by himself. He didn't need an audience.

But now that the others were waking, he wanted to get out of bed. If they caught him brooding, he'd never hear the end of it. Besides, lounging around was losing its appeal after a week in the hospital. 

Was it just two days ago that he was released? It seemed like years. The events at the bust nearly two weeks ago seemed even more distant. It would have been nice if they never happened.

There he went brooding again and footsteps were coming down the hall so the master bedroom was about to be invaded by more than Josiah's unholy noise. Ezra pushed himself away from the headboard, back cramped after slouching against its hard surface for too long. 

Trying gingerly to stretch, he decided it was still a little soon to think about moving his ribs in any way, and so he swung his right leg over the bed's edge, glad Josiah had decided to camp out on the other side. His crutches were almost within reach, and he realized they were intentionally a little beyond his arm-span. Nathan ensuring that he would have to wake one of them before gallivanting across the countryside. As if he could.

Buck caught the derisive snort as he poked his head around the door. "You up?" He whispered unnecessarily over Josiah's chainsaw effect.

"Let me think on it," came the sarcastic reply. 

Ezra tried to hook the crutches with his fingers once more. Seeing them start to tip, Buck came forward to assist and helped swing the bulky knee brace around. Ezra smiled wanly and scooted to the bathroom, reminding himself that, should he refuse to leave the privy, his teammates would inevitably become concerned and break the door down. Besides, he was done brooding. Just as soon as he stopped staring at his battered face.

He hadn't gotten a good look at himself yesterday. Lord knows he hadn't seen a mirror in the hospital, and the day before he had been put straight to bed when he arrived home. After that he had only hopped into the bathroom to relieve himself, but truthfully, he had ignored his reflection on purpose. 

His right cheek was badly bruised, as was his eye, but the swelling had gone down considerably since he had first woken up. It didn't feel like his brain was trying to pulse out of his skull anymore, either. Hopefully the cuts on his forehead and nose wouldn't scar. They were rather noticeable and in his profession he relied on blending in when needed. 

He was amazed he didn't have any dental damage, if his nightmares about being slammed into the kitchen floor were true, but his one molar did feel a little looser than before. Of course, the thugs had been focusing on causing the most painful damage in the shortest amount of time. 

At least they were efficient thugs.

Well, he must be feeling better if he was making caustic remarks, even just in his head. He stared into bright green eyes, searching for something. Exactly what, he wasn't sure.

"You okay in there, Ez?" Buck tapped lightly on the door.

"I'm fine, Buck."

"Breakfast's on, if you feel up to eatin' right now?"

Ezra was notorious for not eating breakfast (or waking up in time to actually have breakfast), but he had been up for hours already and the smells were making his stomach growl. With a final glance at the mirror, he hobbled out into the hallway. Someone had thoughtfully moved the throw rugs from the floor, so he had a much easier time getting around than the night before.

"Nathan even remembered to bring that fancy creamer you like," Buck added as he walked toward the kitchen, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

"Since there's no Starbucks for miles, I'm grateful."

"Hell, Ez, there ain't nothin' around for miles." Buck joked as they entered the dining area. 

The table had been covered with files, notes, and pictures, but someone had thoughtfully cleared a few seats.

"Ya'll better eat up while you can," Vin drawled as he came from the kitchen with a plate of eggs and mug of coffee for Ezra. "Chris wants us to go through everything, maybe figger out what these guys think we know. Seems like if we know what, we'll have some direction to go in."

"Wonderful." Ezra eyed the mound of papers with growing despair. The sheer amount of information on the case was daunting, and if they hadn't realized what this looming 'Something' was before, it meant they would have to go through everything with a fine-toothed comb.

Shaking his head, Buck just dug into his own breakfast with a rueful grin. Vin smirked and went to wake up JD.

~~~

Later that evening, taking a break from the case files, Josiah, Buck and Ezra settled in to watch an old black and white movie playing on the single station the battered TV received. 

Bouncing around half the night, JD was banished to the far side of the family room to fiddle with his lap top, and Buck threw the youngest member's stash of candy bars in his general direction as the demolition expert settled on the couch with Josiah. Ezra had been given the recliner so that he could prop his injured leg up without much trouble.

It wasn't even ten minutes into the movie before Buck, semi-bored, spoke up.

"So this English dude, he gets lots of women, right? Action and intrigue and all that?"

"This 'dude' is already married," Ezra responded absently.

"Then why's he in France all over the place instead of at home gettin' some lovin'?" 

Trying to be as obnoxious as possible, Buck grabbed a handful of Josiah's trail mix and rammed it all in his mouth. Ezra had seemed withdrawn all day, so he figured the best way to get him riled was to insult one of the "classics." Man never could turn down an argument against Buck when it came to being refined.

Rising to the bait as expected, Ezra glared at Buck around Josiah. "He is extricating his fellow aristocrats from the certain death of Madame Guillotine, Bucklin. It's a noble pursuit that even you should be able to recognize."

"Then why's he dressed like a woman?"

"In order to effect the release of his social brethren, he must first blend in with the revolutionary rabble to reach them." Ezra turned back to the screen while Josiah continued munching complacently. 

Buck smiled. "Seems kinda unnecessary to me, him dressing up like a woman. Plus, he's named after a flower."

"It's a very elegant bloom, but you miss the point. He has many disguises, not just the old woman, so that he may evade capture. In a time where France was in major political upheaval, slaughtering the innocent bourgeoisie as well as any 'enemies of the people,' this one man and his chosen few were willing to risk life and limb, using their resources as English noblemen, to rescue these unfortunate people."

"Unfortunate oppressors," Vin muttered to Ezra as he sat on the carpet next to the armchair.

"So he goes undercover. Dressed as a woman. Like someone else we know."

"Yes, Buck." Ezra deadpanned.

From the kitchen table, Nathan fought back a smirk. Chris exchanged amused glances with him over the latest case file. 

"You’ve gone undercover as a woman, Ez?" JD chimed in from the window seat, interest peaked. “I thought that only happened in movies?”

Ezra sighed in good-natured resignation, knowing full well Buck did it on purpose. JD wouldn’t rest until he heard all the war stories of his teammates.

“Yes, JD,” Ezra drawled, “and I looked damn good doing it.”

“I ain’t heard this one yet! Why’d you decide--”

"Toss me one of them Snicker bars, JD," Vin interrupted, calling out over Ezra.

"Oh Lord, let me get back to bed first if you’re gonna have sweets," the conman murmured, mockingly reaching for his crutches while JD set aside the laptop to rummage in his bag of snacks.

"Catch."

The bar pegged Ezra in the head and went sailing off down the hall. Shrugging, JD threw another but it bounced off Vin's cast. A third one was ready to be launched, but Vin was trying in vain to reach the second with the tips of his toes.

"You two hooligans are picking up every single thing you throw in here," Chris intoned from the dining room table without looking up.

"JD's the one with bad aim." Vin pointed out as he triumphantly snagged the second chocolate bar with the edge of a throw blanket.

"Fine. JD." Chris was using his leader voice.

"Yes, sir." JD sighed and went to get the Snickers in the hall. Just as he slid off the window seat, however, the window seemed to explode next to him. The team dived for cover with guns drawn before the last of the glass hit the floor.

"JD?" Chris called from behind the kitchen island.

"I'm fine." He had dropped in front of the seat on all fours and cussed up a storm when he landed on window shards. Unfortunately, he was pinned in his position. "I ain't goin' nowhere, though."

Vin had pulled Ezra down next to him on the floor, and now inched towards the hall, using the couch as cover. Josiah and Buck crouched behind the flipped coffee table, while Nathan waited around the corner of the hall for Vin and Ezra.

After waiting a few moments to see if there would be any more gunfire, it seemed as though the assailant was either very patient or was moving to a better vantage point. The seven were still, only the sound of the television's continued playing breaking the silence.

"How many shooters, you reckon?" Chris asked Vin fiercely from his position in the kitchen once the sharpshooter shifted in the hallway.

"I heard two reports. Same model, different directions. Pros, most likely." Vin spoke in strained tones as he awkwardly helped Nathan position a pale Ezra more comfortably against the wall with one arm.

Chris nodded his agreement, staring out into the night through the shattered window. "Alright. Game plan. JD?"

"Yeah?"

"How mobile are you?"

"I'll be fine once I can get off this damn glass."

"Try to follow the wall to the dining room." The path would take him in front of another window, but their options were limited.

"Alright."

"I gotcher back, kid," Buck called from the coffee table, keeping his gun trained through the open window. JD nodded once, then hauled ass in a pained crouch along the wall, past the front door, and to the dining room. A short sprint from there and he huddled down with Chris in the kitchen.

No movement from outside.

"Buck, Josiah. See if you can make it to the hallway."

The large profiler motioned for Buck to go first, and the demolition expert promptly threw himself behind the couch, then dived for the hallway. Josiah followed quickly after with Vin covering him from the corner.

Once again, no movement from outside.

"Head for the master bedroom, stay close to the closet door." Chris waited for JD to limp in a painful crouch ahead of him, the team leader taking up the rear while Josiah gently but efficiently pulled Ezra to his feet.

The hallway darkened unexpectedly, even the backyard floodlights going out.

"Fuck. Move!" Chris urged them to go faster, and the seven men made it to the master bedroom as quickly as possible. Over the sounds of movement, he could have sworn he heard the front door opening, and quickly pulled the linen closet door open to block the hallway. Without glancing back, he closed the bedroom door and locked it with a flick of his wrist. They were pinned if they couldn't get out the back.

"Josiah, windows. JD, how bad you bleedin'?" He could hear Josiah swiftly moving to comply with his whispered order and strained to hear JD over what he assumed was Ezra's harsh breathing.

"Hands're too slick to hold my gun."

"Nathan." A rustle and the tear of fabric, most likely the bedsheets. Mary was going to kill them all. Assuming they survived this.

"Buck, cover the door." 

"Want me to go 'round front, pick 'em off?" Vin whispered, close to his left.

"Not with one arm. Cover Ez."

Any protest was stifled by a muffled impact in the hallway, followed by the rebound of the linen closet door off the wall. The intruder recovered quickly, stopping the door from continuing to swing, and there was silence. 

Chris recognized that whoever it was must have frozen at some point in the hallway, probably on the opposite side from the door. Buck, apparently coming to the same conclusion after realizing Chris had opened the closet door, fired three quick shots through the thin bedroom door, blanketing the narrow hallway. There was one other bedroom the intruder could have possibly ducked into, assuming they could find it. If they had walked into the open door, chances were they didn't have night vision goggles.

The report from Buck's handgun was deafening, and for a moment, Chris' ears were ringing. A semi-thump was audible, though, along with a crash from the dining room.

"Nathan, Buck, follow me." Chris sprinted for the window Josiah had secured earlier, pulling it up with a jerk from the side and waving the curtain behind the glass. No shots, so he swung a leg over, dropping to the frozen ground. Buck and Nathan quickly followed, and they ducked behind the decorative evergreen bushes ringing the house.

The front door was standing open, the inside dark. Snow was still falling, quickly filling in the boot prints surrounding the front door, but Chris saw the blood and drag trail. His finger was beginning to numb where it rested next to the trigger.

Silently, he motioned Buck to the vehicles. With a nod, the demolition expert sprinted from the cover of the bushes towards the nearby Bronco. A spattering of gunfire broke out from the far tree line, single weapon, cutting him off and making him dodge around the huge truck to the next vehicle. Sliding to a stop behind Vin's Jeep, Buck crawled to the driver's side and set about hotwiring Junior's ride in the dark.

Now that they had the enemy's position, Chris and Nathan split up, moving silently in opposite directions by the glow of the low hanging clouds. Simultaneously, they made a dash for the trees ringing the lawn, followed a few seconds later by Buck gunning the Jeep's engine triumphantly. Confused gunfire was aimed first at Nathan, then the Jeep pulling out of the line of vehicles.

Tires slipping in the slush of fallen snow, the Jeep fishtailed a bit before finding traction and driving straight. The headlights cut on, high beams directed towards the source of gunfire in the hopes of blinding him, as Nathan and Chris moved in closer through the bare trees. The distraction worked, drawing the assassin's fire towards the headlights, a dark shape visible each time he reached around to let off a few shots.

For once, Vin had been wrong, Chris smirked, the very devil in his smile. These couldn't be professionals. At the most they were amateur thugs with expensive toys. There had been too many errors, mostly miscalculations and over confidence. These clowns had followed them up here, expecting to take them out like fish in a barrel. They either had a personal stake in seeing the team dead or were being offered too much money to just cut and run like most thugs would have by now.

Chris paused behind a large trunk, snow soaking into his black jeans and chilling his legs. The black pullover he wore barely kept out the cold wind and he shivered involuntarily, cursing himself for not grabbing another layer from the bedroom. He and Nathan didn't have much time to take this guy out before they were too stiff to avoid getting shot.

Moving in, Chris couldn't tell where Nate was anymore, but he could see their assailant as the man rose for another shot at the Jeep. Aiming carefully with iced hands, Chris ended up grazing the trunk of the tree behind the man's head. A few shots zinged past his own head as he ducked for better cover cursing wildly, but Buck started shooting from the driver's side of the Jeep and drew his fire away.

A third gunman joined in, and the would-be assassin fell silent. Nate appeared in the light, slowly approaching the hiding place. After a few tense seconds, the EMT stood straight, and called out over the running engine, "Got him. His buddy's not here, though."

A crackle of ice and dead branches behind him, and Chris spun around quickly. A split second to take in the gunman, barely standing, leaning against a tree, forehead bloody, raising a handgun, and-

The back of his head exploded, thick red against the white snow, and the body was thrown back, landing softly.

For a moment, all Chris could hear was the rush of his own heartbeat and the idling Jeep engine. Then he turned to the direction of the shot, too far too his right to be Nathan or Buck, and there was Vin on the porch, rifle slung over his shoulder. Forcing himself to stand up, knees protesting the maintained crouch, he didn't really look at the remains as he kicked the handgun away from the corpse. He didn't bother to check for a pulse either; he knew the man was dead.

Making himself walk slowly back to the house, he took in Josiah coming from the backyard with a grim expression, the large man covering the bodies of the two thugs at the side of the house. He watched Buck slowly parking the Jeep with an apologetic shrug at Vin, who was moving to help Nathan check the perimeter. As his adrenaline rush faded, Chris started shivering convulsively from the damp snow. Vin jogged over with a bit of difficulty in the snow, holding someone's jacket, which from the size was probably Josiah's.

"Here." He thrust the jacket on Chris, not giving the man time for a token protest. "Buck's getting' a flashlight to look at the power cables, and Nate's gonna strap JD up better. Ezra's having problems breathing, too."

Chris nodded, taking a moment to work the circulation back into his fingers. "Thought I told you to stay inside."

"Technically you said not to go 'round and pick them off from behind. I was in front of that one," Vin delivered deadpan and unapologetic. "Just cause one arm got broke don't mean the other one ain't workin'."

With a sardonic laugh, Chris shook his head. The tracks near the porch were filled in now, but the porch itself had been trampled enough to let them use the front door. Although, even with the door closed, the inside of the cabin was freezing from the wind getting through the broken front window.

Buck managed to get the power back up since the main lines hadn't been disturbed, only the box out back. Ezra was laid out on the guest bed while Nathan had taken over the bathroom as a makeshift triage, bandaging JD's knees as well as hands. The youngest team member was bemoaning his luck, having just gotten rid of the sling.

Chris was trying to get the stupid cell phone to work when Vin straightened from his attempts to cover the window.

"Someone's comin'. Rollin' up slow, though."

The healthy team members cut the lights and took up positions near the door and windows. Chris held his breath, waiting for the first vehicle to crest the driveway. Buck let out a whoop when a sheriff's bar light came into view, followed closely by more squad cars and an ATF van. The sheriff got on his loudspeaker, to which Team Seven responded enthusiastically.

"You boys sure are a beautiful sight!" Buck called out when Team Three unloaded from the van.

"Seems we can't let you out of the pen without trouble, Bucklin," Mike called back with a smile. Coming closer as his team took up defensive positions around the house and the police were led to the bodies, he shook hands with Chris and they continued into the living room. "Thought we'd come in guns blazing to save the day but looks like you boys don't need rescuing."

"Nah," Chris smirked. "How'd you know where to find us?"

"Travis got to hollerin' when Russo rolled." At Chris' inquiring expression, Mike elaborated. "Seems Signor Russo was in a bit of trouble with his boss and decided to take the easy way out. His lawyer put in a bargain for immunity, but before the judge could even reply, Russo was found dead in his cell. Apparently he had swallowed his own tongue, but coroner hasn't ruled out murder yet." He didn't need to point out the fact that, if indeed it was murder, there was a leak in the bureau.

Chris looked suitably impressed. "They wanted him silenced before he could set up a plea bargain and sent these amateurs up here to tie up loose ends."

"Dare I ask where the amateurs are now?"

Team Seven had a reputation, which was well deserved as Chris watched the sheriff helping load the two frozen corpses into the coroner's wagon. The local authority hadn't wanted to have the coroner follow them up, but Travis had assured him it would save everyone time, as well as having an ambulance follow. Nate had patched JD up, but it looked like Ezra was headed back to the hospital for observation.

"Remind me never to piss you guys off," Mike muttered, accepting a cup of coffee from Buck.

"So Travis figures Russo was murdered and we're next?" Vin piped up from slouching near the doorway.

"Well, I'm guessing the organization isn't as tight as they'd like to think."

"How so?"

"FBI brought a witness in yesterday, in a seemingly unrelated case of several murders on the East Coast. Witness IDs two small-time crooks for one of the murders. FBI looks the boys up and sends us a flag because one guy, Rinaldo Pancheri, matches the partial prints lifted from Ezra's cuffs. He and his associate, Tommas Deogario, are on Russo's payroll." Mike produced two photocopies taken from the men's criminal records, showing them to Chris to confirm. As the leader nodded, Nathan spoke up from behind him.

"Those are the two that got me in the parking lot, too. I think."

"Their rap sheets read like a freakin' novel, with arrests across the country. Not as many convictions as you'd expect, though-" Mike was interrupted by a disturbance in the hallway.

"I'm fine, I tell you. Unhand me, heathens!"

The living room's occupants exchanged glances.

"Why don't I fill you in on the details after you get your team taken care of?" Mike offered and Chris accepted with a rueful nod.

Walking down the narrow hallway with Vin, Chris silently asked if the sharpshooter would like to go first, but Vin merely hung back against the doorjamb. Two harassed-looking EMTs were trying to coax a wheezing Ezra onto the stretcher.

"Sir, please stop struggling-"

"I'll have you know that I am in complete control of my faculties and your behavior shall be reported to your superiors, you inbred-"

The nearest EMT turned to Chris. "Look, your buddy is refusing treatment. You want him to go, you talk to him."

"Ezra." Chris aimed The Glare of Doom at him.

"There is no way I am riding down this mountain in the back of one of those death traps!"

"You're going to the hospital, even if we have to drive you ourselves." Chris' tone left no room for argument.

Vin pushed away from the doorframe. "I'll do it," he offered resignedly, glaring half-heartedly at his incapacitated friend.

Ezra started protesting again, but Chris merely ignored him and spoke to the EMT. "Thanks for your time. We'll go ahead and get him to the ER. There's coffee in the living room."

The EMTs muttered sarcastic remarks to each other, but vacated the room as soon as possible. Vin was still glaring at Ezra, who stared back mutinously.

"Make sure you buckle him in, too," Chris smirked as he went to round up the rest of the team.

At least some things never changed…

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://jrocci.tumblr.com/)


End file.
